


My Bloody Hands Remain a Question Mark

by mythomagicallydelicious



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Minor Blood Mention, allusions to caleb's backstory, beau jester and yasha are all mentioned, caleb voms non-graphically, caleb's ptsd little bit, spoilers ep 54 Well Beneath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 14:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythomagicallydelicious/pseuds/mythomagicallydelicious
Summary: Caleb finally fails a wisdom save and comes back to himself, and then has to deal with some personal fallout from his actions beneath the well of Asarius.





	My Bloody Hands Remain a Question Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to @SophiaOfTheSevenStorms for giving me some radical Radical Face songs for Caleb, which is where the title for this fic came from.

Caleb lurches back, hand to chest as blood warmly pours from a wound Yasha is pulling her sword back from. He sees a wild rage in her eyes, snarling, but also a keen desperation. He glances around the cavern and sees scorch marks at the mouth of the cave. He sees his wall of fire held partially at bay, waiting for him to command it up again. 

Worst of all, he sees his--traveling companions. The ladies on fire or burnt, Jester’s dress with smoldering holes. He stretches his arm up to his chest and sees the bruise of Beau’s handprint where it had locked around his wrist. Reminds him of the words he heard almost as if through a dream-like haze. Asking if he was okay.

_ Scheisst. _ He wasn’t okay.

He lets the wall of fire dissipate and steam temporarily blinds him as he does. He’s grateful for that as he fumbles through his pockets, hands shaking, voice uneven as he calls apologies out to his--his--

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,--all, I was not---I am myself again-- _ Haste, Beauregard _ .” Sweet licorice, slightly stale from storage in his pocket, fills his tongue with flavor. Yet bitter and bile are creeping upon the fringes of the spell as he chokes out the words. 

He burned his companions. He  _ attacked _ all of them. Nearly killed them--he knows he could do it. If they were unlucky or less dexterous. His power is growing more; slowly, but growing.

He throws up behind a stalagmite as his spell finishes and he can’t stop staring at the singed friends defending themselves around him.

That--that succubus invaded his head, his  _ mind _ was not his own.

Again.

And he hurt people--companions--those he is closest to. He could have killed them. He used his fire for another’s bidding.

Again.

Caleb follows the others as the demons fled to the back of the cavern. Eyes unfocused, letting himself be pulled into the commotion and movement.

He felt Caduceus re-invigorate him with healing, and a vicious part of his mind whispered that Caduceus should not have bothered. He deserved being attacked by the others. He was more hurtful than helpful to them. He should have left them before this ever became an issue.

He feels his shoulder wound close up and he allows the relief to wash over him. He can’t fight it. The healing magic is too strong, too pervasive to not allow it in. To not allow it to soothe his mind over as it rushes through him. 

He may wish he were dead, but he’s not down yet. There is still too much to do.

And now, even more to atone for. 

His thoughts are interrupted as a demon steps out of the wall and roars.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, let me know if I missed a tag
> 
> -also sorry, I didn't know how to do the special s sound letter for the curse word, so it's just one stupid B instead. Hope you know what I meant tho
> 
> Thanks for reading!! comments and kudos appreciated fam :D


End file.
